PREFACE.

THE object of the following Essay is to remove some of those difficulties which have often haunted thoughtful and inquiring minds, when they reflect on the deeper truths and more solemn aspects of religion, both natural and revealed. As it is to readers of this class alone that it is addressed, the work should be read with reference to its own object. There are some, perhaps, whose childlike faith is content to follow the plainer lessons of natural conscience, and of Christian revelation, without being ever troubled by the deep shadows that lie around them. The aim of these pages is not to awaken the sense of difficulty in their minds, but to relieve the depth of these shadows, where they have been felt already in their chilling and

depressing power. In the hope that the views here partly unfolded, and which are not hastily entertained, may be to some weary spirits like a streak of morning light upon the distant mountains, when the gloom of night is passing away, they are committed to the blessing of the True Fountain of all Wisdom.

KELSHALL, Nov. 1855.

INTRODUCTION.

ON THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOD.

THE existence of One First Cause, powerful, wise, good, and holy, the Lord and Governor of the universe, is the foundation of all natural and revealed religion. It is the fountain out of which every other truth must really flow. "I AM THAT I AM. I AM THE FIRST AND THE LAST, and besides me there is no God." In these messages, God has announced to mankind his own prerogative of unchangeable, eternal, essential being. All creatures, compared with Him, are less than nothing, and vanity. His majesty dwarfs the splendour of all created beauty; and the universe, apart from Him who formed and sustains it, would almost appear, to the eye of reason, like a shadowy dream.

But there may be a great contrast between the certainty and dignity of a truth in itself, and the clearness with which it is apprehended by men. What is first and highest in its own nature, may possibly be latest in the order of human knowledge. The laws on which the movements of our earth, and the changes of its seasons depend, existed for long ages before their

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discovery. So also that primal truth, on which all others are secretly suspended, may require slow and successive steps of thought, before we can reach the mountain-top where we can gaze on it with a clear and steadfast vision. The child becomes familiar with many objects, its toys and playthings, and the countenances of its nurse and parents, before it knows the source of the light by which all these are made visible, or has ever beheld the calm beauty of the rising or setting sun. And when it is seen at last, its brightness must be tempered by clouds, or by the mists of the morning or evening sky; and the number is small of those who borrow the help of art, in order to gaze directly on its meridian brightness. In like manner, to behold with steadfast, unclouded gaze the true and uncreated Light is a hard and high attainment. Its brightness dazzles and confounds the reason of man. It must be seen reflected upon the objects of earth, or tempered with some veil which heavenly love itself has provided, before the vision of sinful creatures can endure its glory.

This contrast between the nature of the truth, and our faint and variable apprehensions of it, has led to some perplexity with regard to the evidence on which it rests. The pious mind shrinks from the thought that a doctrine so momentous should be viewed merely as a high pro-· bability. It claims for it instinctively some absolute demonstration.

Now demonstrative reasoning usually descends from generals to particulars, from causes to their effects, from principles to their necessary consequences. But when